Mine
by emu malfoy
Summary: Horny teenagers, yay. There is gay stuff, there is straight stuff, there is kind of a plot...heh. A little DM/RW, DM/NL better than it sounds! , RW/HG, HP/LL. Player!Draco, Rugged!Neville, Lovestruck!Harry, Bombshell!Hermione...
1. Neville

**This is my first story—reviews would be awesome!!**

Neville sighed as he dropped his gaze from the stunning blonde glaring at him from two tables away.

It was so unfair. He would do anything for a kiss from that boy, a touch, even a smile.

Neville couldn't help it. He looked up from his plate again and across the room to—

Oh, Merlin, that face! The piercing eyes that gave him such agreeable shivers when they were looking at him—the fact that they were almost always narrowed in disgust gave Neville goosebumps. The pointed chin, tribute to his sharp mind and sharper tongue. The white-blonde hair that was always carefully styled—Neville longed to muss it, run his fingers through it. The only signs of weakness on Draco Malfoy's perfect face were the lovely cheekbones and creamy skin.

Neville was unceremoniously brought back to Earth when a large hand grabbed his shoulder.

"He's MINE," a familiar voice hissed, and Neville didn't have to turn to know who the speaker was. Ron Weasley had noticed Neville's obsession. Neville had wondered when Ron would find out. Ron and Malfoy had been seeing each other secretly for almost two months—Neville was the only one that knew about it. Really, that's what had started his infatuation with Draco.

He had tried to forget, but deep down he knew he didn't want to.

Neville had awoken late one night, covered in sweat from some half-remembered homoerotic wet dream. Realizing he was done sleeping for the night, he went to the Gryffindor bathroom to clean up—but as he approached the door, he heard voices. Male voices, moaning and sobbing and panting in rhythm with each other. The sounds alone made Neville's heartbeat quicken and his erection rose almost immediately. He contemplated for a moment—what if they saw him?—but it seemed clear that the two were very distracted.

He eased the door open an inch or two and looked inside. He gasped.

The curtain of one of the shower stalls was open, revealing two men—one facing Neville, the other on his knees, busy sucking a huge cock. The redhead had his eyes closed, obviously enjoying the blonde's ministrations. Neville had to stare at the one on his feet for almost a minute before realizing it was Ron—possibly the most unlikely closet case Neville could think of. It was also a shock to see Ron's naked body. Neville had often wondered what Ron looked like under his loose robes—he was tall and broad-shouldered, and other than that it was almost impossible to get any kind of idea about the body underneath. Ron's chest and arms were muscled, his waist was small and he had a happy trail that made Neville drool. Only when the blonde spoke did Neville's attention waver from Ron's athletic body, and in a second his lust for the ginger was eclipsed.

"Baby, you're choking me," the blonde drawled in that familiar tone.

Neville's life was forever changed.

Draco was tall, surprisingly so, and as he stood to plant a gentle kiss on Ron's lips the first thing Neville noticed was his gorgeous toned butt. Malfoy raised a hand to Ron's face, and as he did the muscles in his back rippled perfectly. The couple turned, so Malfoy was now facing Neville, and he was treated to an amazing view. Draco's face, eyes closed, completely lost in Ron's deepening kiss. His hard chest, with its delicate pink nipples that begged for Neville to suck them. The abs—lord, it was beautiful, the way his muscles shifted under his skin with the slightest movement!—and finally his huge cock, held with a long-fingered hand.

Neville came into his own hand, holding his breath as his eyes rolled back into his head. It was ecstasy and agony. Draco was naked—but with somebody else, one of Neville's own friends. And what would Hermione think? Did she even know? For a second Neville considered telling her—but then realized that the voices were getting closer. He turned and bolted toward the room that he shared with the other Gryffindor boys in his year.

He had barely managed to crawl into his bed when Ron sauntered in. "Neville," he whispered, "Don't think you can get away with this. Tell anyone about it and I'll tell Draco—he'll deal with you…"

Neville knew that Draco's punishment would be harsh if he found out what Neville had seen. But was that really such a bad thing…?


	2. Draco

Draco Malfoy was bored with his life. Quidditch was a thing of the past, classes were too easy. Lovers were too easy. Girls (and boys) would do anything for a night in his bed. They practically threw themselves at him. It was enjoyable at times, but…Draco needed a thrill. He needed someone to chase.

Ron had been a nice change. Draco had only been with girls before—he had surprised himself when he found he was staring at the redhead's long, lean muscles and shockingly blue eyes. The fact that Ron went with that bushy-haired bitch didn't matter; Draco knew that he would get what he wanted sooner or later, and this time it happened sooner. He had seen Ron walk into a bathroom alone one day, followed him in, started a conversation, flashed a grin—and found himself being kissed. It was too easy. They had spent a year meeting secretly, exploring each others bodies (Ron admitted to kissing Harry once in a drunken haze, but that was the extent of his experience with other men). The sex was great, and the covert nature of their relationship made their lovemaking frantic and passionate. The fact that they were enemies outside of the bedroom (or, rather, bathroom) only made it better.

But it was getting old. Draco was really only in it for the sex—he had always hated the Weasel!—but it was becoming clear that Ron thought there was a deeper connection. The notes he left for Draco were becoming increasingly more romantic, and the latest had been signed with a heart. It was just too much.

So Draco had broken it off, not even bothering to acknowledge Ron at breakfast that morning. Clearly this was a mistake—Draco saw the Longbottom boy staring at him, saw Ron whisper something into his ear with a bitter expression on his face. Draco only hoped that Neville would be the only one Ron told about their affair.

Draco didn't mind other people knowing he was bisexual, it was more the fact that his first male experiences had been with Ron that he didn't want getting out. Gay and bi wizards were common, and homosexuality was only frowned on in select communities around the world.

He chuckled as he thought of the way Longbottom had looked at him this morning. It was almost cute, the way his golden eyes had widened when he noticed Draco's glare, his shoulders tensing. The long, thick lashes veiling his honey gaze as he looked down at his spotless plate.

No! Draco thought with a smirk. Enough with the Gryffindor men!


	3. Ron

"He's MINE," Ron hissed into Neville's ear, seeing the way the boy mooned over Draco.

Neville was the only one who had known about their secret trysts. Ron meant it to stay that way. How would the wizard community react if they found out that the best friend to The Boy Who Lived had been dumped by a Death Eater's son? Ron could imagine Harry's reaction, and shuddered. It was an unpleasant thought.

So Neville had to believe that Draco would hurt him if he told. Which meant he had to think Ron and Draco were still together. Ron knew that Draco had never considered them a couple, but he couldn't help fantasize. He still loved the beautiful Slytherin, and, much as he hated to admit it, he didn't want to see Draco with anyone else.

Ron swept past Neville to sit next to Hermione. He tried to return her cheerful smile as he filled a goblet with Pumpkin Juice, but he knew it didn't convince her.

"Ron…is everything okay?"

He sighed. Typical Hermione, trying to find out everyone else's business.

On the other hand, she was supposed to be his girlfriend.

"Just a little tired. Late night…" Ron almost choked on his mouthful of juice when he thought about the previous night. He had stayed up until some ungodly hour writing a poem for Draco. He had been planning to give it to his lover in the morning; unfortunately, Draco had dumped him, and the poem was still folded inside his pocket. Ron looked up at Hermione again with a sudden burst of inspiration.

"Actually, Hermione, I was working on something…for you."

Hermione looked confused. Ron had been an adequate boyfriend at best. He was distant and unromantic, but Hermione could tell that he genuinely cared about her, if not in the way she cared about him. In fact, when she saw his face that morning, Hermione had been convinced that he was going to end it with her. She certainly wasn't expecting the small piece of paper he handed her with a shy smile.

"I'm sorry I'm not the best writer," he whispered, "But it's from the heart. I hope you don't mind…"

Hermione barely managed to splutter out a small "of course" before opening the note. It was written in Ron's broad, masculine handwriting, and covered the entirety of the small piece of parchment.

_If only tonight we could sleep_

_In a bed made of flowers_

_If only tonight we could fall_

_In a deathless spell_

_If only tonight we could slide_

_Into deep black water_

_And breathe…_

_And breathe…_

_Whenever I'm alone with you_

_You make me feel like I am home again_

_Whenever I'm alone with you_

_You make me feel like I am whole again_

_However far away_

_I will always love you_

_However long I stay_

_I will always love you_

_Whatever words I say_

_I will always love you_

_I will always love you_

_XO Ron_

Hermione looked up at Ron, hands trembling so much the entire paper shook.

"Ron, I…That…That was beautiful. I can't believe you wrote that!"

"Thanks." He grimaced. "Sorry about that little dark spot in the beginning…Look, Hermione, I've been thinking a lot lately, and I know I haven't been the best boyfriend in the world. I really want to change that."

"Oh, Ron, you wonderful man." Hermione leaned across the table and kissed him on the lips, once, gently. Ron was surprised to find he enjoyed the action, and realized with a guilty lurch of the stomach that he hadn't kissed Hermione in a long time. He could tell that Hermione had realized this fact a long time ago, and felt even guiltier.

"Ron, I was wondering…our first class this morning is Herbology…would you like to…to ditch with me?"

Ron grinned as he realized there was nothing he would rather do than spend an hour alone with Hermione. So much for being gay.


	4. Harry

Harry Potter was not a morning person; for him, skipping breakfast for an extra half hour of sleep was becoming an increasingly more common occurrence. After all, Voldemort could show up at Hogwarts any day now; why not enjoy every minute he could?

Death was not particularly frightening to Harry; in fact, nothing scared him anymore, unless you counted the fact that he was a virgin. Actually, Harry had only had two kisses in his lifetime, one of which he would really rather not remember. He had avoided Firewhiskey ever since that unfortunate night with Ron.

The time with Cho Chang had been fine. She was pretty and everything, but Harry hadn't really been that into it. There were girls he would rather snog. One stood out particularly in his mind—but it was impossible, people would talk, she wouldn't go for him anyway.

Harry glanced at his alarm clock, growling under his breath. If he got up now, he could make it to the Great Hall in time to grab a sausage link before his first class—and maybe catch a glimpse of her.

He yawned, threw back the blankets, and, in spite of himself, hoped that Luna Lovegood would be wearing the Butterbeer cap necklace that made her eyes look so mysterious.


	5. Partners

"Please, darlings, pay attention. Today's task will require your full attention, and I do not like to repeat my instructions."

Neville sat in the front row of Professor Sprout's greenhouse, completely focused on her voice. Herbology was the only subject in which he really excelled; he had a true gift with plants, and he was only really relaxed when he was working with them. He loved when Sprout gave them complicated assignments, because they forced his mind to focus on the plants alone. They forced him to forget about Draco, albeit temporarily.

Today they were breeding Venemous Tentaculas—a task Neville had read about, and was excited to perform. He knew exactly what he was doing, and how to do it. Neville usually worked alone, but…

"I'm sorry, Neville, but Blaise Zabini is feeling under the weather today; his partner is, shall we say, less skilled than you, and is unable to complete the assignment by himself. You wouldn't mind pairing up with him for today's lesson, would you?"

Neville's heart skipped a beat as he nodded to Professor Sprout. He slowly turned and walked to the back of the room, avoiding his new partner's stare.

"Don't look so disappointed, Longbottom, I'll cut you a deal," the beautiful voice drawled.

Neville tried to raise his gaze from the table up to the steel gray eyes, but only made it as far as Draco's collarbone. Which happened to be unbearably sexy. "What do you want from me?" he choked.

"I'll let you do all the work like you normally do. I know how you love grubbing in the dirt…" Draco's melodious voice was drenched in self-satisfaction.

Somehow, Malfoy's jibe inspired Neville to do something he had never done before: fight back. "What did you do, poison Zabini? At least with me, you're getting the best…" Neville bit his lip and hoped Draco wouldn't notice the Freudian slip. Or maybe that he would.

Draco just grinned. "Something like that," he drawled, leaning back against the wall and scanning Neville through long lashes. He stretched his arms above his head, yawning, and Neville was treated to a close-up view of his toned stomach, complete with a light dusting of blonde. Shit, he thought, I might have to poison Zabini myself.

Draco sat up again, and Neville quickly looked away, aware of the hot blush now present on his cheeks. "We'd better get started," he muttered, trying to focus on the huge plant sitting on the table.

"Go ahead, love, it's all yours," Draco drawled. Neville's blush redoubled as he pulled on his dragonhide gloves. This was going to be an interesting class.


	6. Payback

Draco wasn't sure what made him bribe Zabini, having him play sick that morning; but he knew that it was the right thing to do as soon as Longbottom opened his mouth. Who knew the boy had a personality? It was good to see. Draco appreciated a person who knew when to stand up for themselves.

He caught Neville looking at his torso when he leaned back; Draco wasn't ashamed to admit to himself that he had done it on purpose. He appreciated the sight of those warm eyes glowing with lust. The rough hands, perpetually grimy from working in soil, gripping the edge of the table. There was something so different about Neville from everyone Draco had ever been with, and he was entranced by it. He watched as the boy began working on the writhing plant that was their assignment. It was obvious that this was what Neville was destined to do. His amber eyes were sharp, keeping track of every moving branch on the plant. His calloused hands moved fast, gripped hard, forcing the plant to bend under his will. Draco moved subtly so he could get a better view, impressed by Longbottom's raw power.

And then it was over. Neville had completed the assignment, and the bell was ringing.

"We make a great team." Draco smirked sidelong at Neville as they left the greenhouse, aware of the effect this look had on most people. It was hard to pull off, though, considering the boys' sweaty face and messy hair; the dirt smeared on his face only added to the overall masculine effect.

Neville was still on an adrenaline high. "Admit it: you owe me, big boy," he grinned at the taller boy.

Malfoy was taken aback. "Oh, really? What, pray tell, do I owe?"

"Surprise me." Neville surprised himself with his boldness.

Draco looked around. They were walking up the path to the castle, between two of the greenhouses. All the other students were ahead of them. He glanced at Neville and was treated to a cocked eyebrow, which of course drew his gaze to those honey eyes.

He grabbed Neville's hand, dragging him behind one of the greenhouses. "Surprise," he whispered, closing his eyes before gently touching his lips to those of the other boy.

It was the softest, sweetest kiss Draco had ever experienced, and he was filled with a tingling warmth that spread throughout his entire body, concentrating at the places where his skin touched Neville's—their knees pressed together, their interlaced fingertips, their probing lips. He opened his eyes and was immediately immersed in the now burning copper color of Neville's. Draco opened his mouth slightly and their tongues met, twisting around each other and gently exploring. The warmth of his body increased until it matched the heat in Neville's eyes. He pushed Neville against the wall of the nearest greenhouse.

Draco removed his lips from Neville's, extracting a tiny moan, only to replace them just underneath his left ear.

"What class do you have next?" he whispered after kissing his way down Neville's neck and back up again.

"Ch…Charms…" Draco had to bury his head into Neville's neck to hear the soft reply.

"You don't mind missing it, do you?" Draco took a half step backward, raising an eyebrow at the smaller boy in his arms.

Neville responded with an equally devious smile, and whirled the blonde so their positions were switched. "I'm feeling a bit under the weather…I'm sure Professor Flitwick will understand…"


	7. Girlfriend

Ron couldn't believe his luck.

The morning had begun terribly; he hadn't missed that gleam of interest mixed with the loathing in Draco's eyes when he stared at Neville at breakfast. But Ron had found something he had never imagined—someone whose company he enjoyed more than the Slytherin prince's. Especially in bed.

Instead of going to first period Herbology after breakfast, Ron and rediscovered bombshell Hermione had snuck into the Room of Requirement, fueled by Hermione's promise of a "special surprise". She had made Ron close his eyes when he entered the room; when he was finally allowed to look, the view left him awestruck for a few seconds.

Hermione had asked the room to decorate itself as the setting for the ultimate wet dream. The walls were red, the carpet was black and luxurious, and, best of all, there was a huge round bed that took up an entire corner. There was a door on one side of the room, and mirrors covered the walls (especially abundant around the bed). There was a huge wooden chest next to the bed, which Ron somehow knew was full of all sorts of toys and items which could keep a young couple busy for years.

Not that Ron noticed any of this, at first. His immediate attention was on the busty brunette with the smoky eyes, slowly twirling on the pole in the exact center of the room.

"Whoa," he exclaimed, robes tenting at once. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"It's a Muggle thing…" she answered, managing to look at the same time coy and irresistibly alluring. "My cousins taught me…they said it would work on guys…" It was cute, she seemed a little nervous. Ron had to admit, the vixen twirling in front of him was incredibly intimidating; it was good to know there was still a little Hermione in the kinky goddess in front of him.

Ron's eyes hadn't moved from her curvaceous body, clad only in black spike heels, a red lacy bra, and the tiniest red thong he had ever seen. He gulped. Her boobs...it had been impossible to tell what lay under her robes, but they were amazing. His gaze moved slowly down her body—the tiny waist, sexy hips, even a bellybutton piercing. Her bubble butt—fucking robes!!—and long, lean legs. Ron's mouth refused to close.

Fifteen minutes later, the bra was gone, and Ron was looking down into a beautiful pair of gray eyes, staring up at him from somewhere around his groin. At the moment, Hermione had every inch of Ron's giant dick shoved down her throat; she seemed to be enjoying herself, too. She pulled her head back and bent forward to lick his balls, extracting a drawn-out moan from her lover. After a minute she returned to his solid cock, pumping her head vigorously and licking a bead of precum from the tip. Ron cautiously placed a hand on her hair, and was rewarded with (what looked like) a sexy grin. That smile was enough to bring Ron very close to the edge; instead, he gently removed himself from Hermione's warm, soft mouth and pushed her onto the floor beneath him.

"I want you to take me. I want you to fuck me until you can't move. I want you to fucking abuse me."

Ron gaped again for a moment—where was this coming from??—before doing exactly what she wanted. He tried to start slow—she was, after all, a virgin—but her cries of "faster!!" and "FUCK ME" made it impossible. He gave in to his most animalistic instincts, and soon her tight, dripping pussy was full of his hot come. She came with a shriek as soon as she felt his orgasm, and the couple lay panting on the floor for a minute, wondering at what had just happened.

"I'm never leaving this room," Ron whispered as he moved over to spoon Hermione.

She rolled over to look him in the eyes with a lusty smile. "Are you sure? That door leads to the deluxe bathroom…complete with hot tub and plenty of bubble bath…"


	8. A Strange Morning

"What a weird morning," Harry mused as he entered the castle after Herbology. Ron and Hermione, who had seemed to be on the brink of breaking up, had both "fallen ill," passing Harry on his way into the Great Hall before first period. Harry had seen the look in Hermione's eye; Ron was in for a special treat. Which he fully didn't deserve, but who was Harry to judge? The pair had run off, hand in hand, and Harry knew it was best to leave them alone. Maybe some "quality time" with Hermione would cure Ron of his strange new habits, the most obvious of which were the late night showers and random notes from various owls. Harry had tried to subtly bring up the subject, but Ron had always acted as though nothing was wrong, and Harry had given up. Maybe he would confide in Hermione (although, probably not this morning…Harry wasn't sure how much talking would be happening, after the look on Hermione's face….).

Then, during Herbology, he had been about to partner with Neville (as the other two members of his own group had plans of their own that morning), when Professor Sprout had stuck Neville with Malfoy instead. There was no way Harry would join that group, especially when he noticed the way those two were flirting. It was indecent, really. He had always had an inkling about Malfoy—that boy loved attention, no matter who gave it to him—but he had never really thought about Neville's sexuality. So Harry had done the task by himself. Then, after class, Malfoy and Neville had left the room together, a minute or two after him; but when he got to the castle, they were gone. Harry hoped Neville knew what he was getting into—but, then again, how could he not? Everyone knew what a player Malfoy was, and he was famous for never getting emotionally attached. Harry sighed. Neville was a good guy, but most of all he was innocent; Harry hoped Neville wouldn't be too hurt when Draco abandoned him.

He headed up the stairs to Charms, feeling slightly abandoned. He got along well with most people, but he didn't have any true friends to hang out with other than Ron and Hermione. He spent time with Ginny (and the rest of the Weasleys), Neville, and—of course—Luna, but he mostly felt awkward around other people his age. They always had something to say about him, and, positive or negative, it made him uncomfortable.

He had just reached the third floor and was about to open the door to the Charms corridor when a familiar, dreamy voice spoke.

"Harry, when is the next D.A. meeting going to be? I need your help on a few spells…I can't seem to produce a Patronus without you around…"

Harry felt his breath catch, and grinned to himself before turning and giving Luna a friendly smile. She was standing right behind him, her silvery eyes bright. Her pale skin was luminous and her white-blonde hair shone. Harry was momentarily paralyzed.

"Luna! Err…we haven't had a D.A. meeting in almost two years. But I'd be more than happy to help you work on spells sometime…"

"That would be lovely, Harry, where are Ron and Hermione?"

Harry, used to Luna's habit of jumping from subject to subject, gave the easiest answer:

"They're sick. Something's been going around," he added, then with a grin, "Mostly the Gryffindors and Slytherins, it seems."

Luna nodded. "Yes, well…Gryffindor tower is famous for its infestation of Blibbering Humdingers…they cause headcolds, you know…"

"I didn't know that, Luna, thanks. Have you seen Neville?" Harry knew it was unlikely, but he had to ask.

"Not since breakfast. He seemed a bit distracted, you know…honestly, Gryffindors need to remember to eat their avocadoes, it seems like your entire house has been unable to concentrate lately!"

And with that, she was gone, silvery hair flying behind her as she trotted gracefully down the stairs.

Harry watched her go, his heart pounding. One thought kept appearing in his mind: only in his presence could she produce a Patronus…only in his presence did she truly feel happy. He stood for a few minutes after she left, a sloppy grin on his face, before turning again and heading on to Charms.


End file.
